


Changing Channels - Extended Cut

by aLoggedInReader



Series: Those Pesky Butterflies [1]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aLoggedInReader/pseuds/aLoggedInReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So many possibilities so little time, but Gabriel is determined to make the brothers feature in as many TV-shows and movies as he can. Meanwhile Sam starts wondering if there isn't more of a lesson to learn than the Trickster said. Rated T for language</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first Supernatural fanfiction I ever wrote...  
> Special thanks to Ghastly Eternity for beta-reading!

# Prologue

 

„Don’t say I never did anything for you“, Dean said just before he activated the fire-alarm. He would have if his brother hadn’t grabbed his hand just a second before it hit its target anyway.

„What the hell, Sam?“ Dean snapped, while both Castiel and the Trickster – sorry, Gabriel the arch-angel and massive douchebag – just stood staring at the younger Winchester.

To tell the truth everyone in the room was quite surprised that Sam of all people would keep Dean from showing Gabriel some mercy, which admittedly he didn’t really deserve. Then again what alternatives did they have? Sure, they could leave him there trapped, which would only make him come back with a vengeance eventually and even when they had still thought he was only a Trickster that prospect wouldn’t have been all that great. Of course Dean could have tested his theory about holy-fire Molotov cocktails on the angel as well, but then again if that backfired (and Dean was man enough to admit that it was likely to backfire) they’d once more have a very pissed off arch-angel on their hands.

Dean honestly missed the times when some good old violence with the right knife or bullet would solve most of their problems in a permanent way. Damn demons had been bad enough, but at least they could be exorcised and killed with some special means… freaking angels didn’t even have the decency to give them a chance to kill them!

“Look, I’ve got one more question for him, that’s all” Sam tried to explain and thereby interrupted his brother’s inner musings about the good old days before turning back toward the trapped angel.

Dean grimaced slightly but said nothing and leaned against the nearby wall seemingly relaxed.

So one more question, why not? He could let Sam have that if it’d keep him from bitching about never getting what he wanted later on, or even worse a talk about how Dean had hurt his feelings.

Castiel of course remained standing in exactly the same spot he had been in before they had been stopped from leaving, looking at Dean a little confused and questioningly. As if Dean would have known what exactly his brother was up to!

He just shrugged as he met Castiel’s stare, once again wondering if the angel just never blinked or if he somehow timed his blinks in a way that they were at exactly the same time as Dean’s so he wouldn’t see them. He wasn’t quite sure which thought he found creepier either.

“What was the lesson here?” Sam’s voice finally broke the silence. Again everyone was staring at him, which Sam was beginning to find quite unnerving.

“And people say you’re the smart one”, Gabriel replied shaking his head slightly, “Something wrong with your short-term memory, Sasquatch?”

As little as he liked it but Dean found he had to agree with the Trickster there. And that would have to go on the list of things Dean had thought would never happen but had happened anyway. Stuff like angels being real, Sam getting it on with a werewolf, Castiel organizing an orgy while high on some kind of drug. Though that last one hadn’t happened yet technically and never would if Dean had anything to say in it.

“You two, accepting your destiny, playing your roles, getting it over with? Ring any bells?” Gabriel sing-songed in the sort of mocking tone he had brought to perfection over the centuries. The truth was that he was still brooding over the things the older Winchester had said earlier though, not that he’d ever give the idiot the satisfaction of knowing that. He’d take his chances with a leap over the holy-fire first, thank you very much!

“Yeah, I got that the first time around. That’s the lesson you were trying to teach us”, Sam replied rolling his eyes, though he had to admit that he should have voiced his question differently from the start, “What’s the lesson you were trying to teach _me_?”


	2. Chapter 1

** 1 **

_Many TV-Show cameos earlier…_

 

Sam had thought nothing could surprise him anymore. Seriously, he had gone from appearing in Dr. Sexy MD to some Japanese Game-show - and boy he wasn’t likely to forget that one any time soon - to an advert - which by the way Dean would never ever let him forget about – to some sort of Sitcom and he thought he had taken everything remarkably well this far. At least he was still standing with nothing but his dignity seriously bruised. He really doubted that that bruise would ever fade though.

Actually, what was it with the bad guys and venereal diseases lately? And why did they always have to give them to him? Not that he’d ever wish anything bad for his older brother but Dean was the one of them that should be more likely to catch something! Well, Sam was rather certain that he didn’t really have genital herpes, but talking about that disease as much as he had had to alone made him feel rather itchy.

Anyway when it became clear that they’d not give in to the Trickster (and really how could they have with what the jerk wanted?) and after hearing the threat of staying in TV-land forever Sam had used the second or so between being taken from the Sitcom set to something new to prepare himself for the worst case scenarios. Knowing their luck they’d get thrown into shark-week or a documentation about active volcanoes.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he got in the end however.

At first Sam felt disoriented and his eyes wouldn’t quite adjust to the sudden darkness after the bright Sitcom-world he had been in moments before, but he realized that he was standing in a room with at least a dozen other people and by the sound of it most of them were women. Alright, so at least no sharks or other predators… yet.

The younger Winchester had just begun to think that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be quite as bad as he had feared when suddenly there was a blinding light and the woman behind him pushed him forward rather forcefully.

Sam didn’t even get a chance to glare at the bitch before the sudden realization of what was going on hit him as hard as a bright red ball on a stick to the balls.

“Oh come on”, he muttered unhappily while staggering along the catwalk refusing to even try and imitate the silly walk of the women in front of him. There was however no refusing to walk along with the others because the one behind him was very insistent and there was no chance that he’d get away with jumping off the catwalk and disappearing into the crowd.

Logically he knew that he needed to play his role and all that jazz to get out of this again, but he had just been dropped into a freaking fashion show so excuse him for being in a sour mood that wasn’t improved by the fact that he couldn’t see Dean anywhere.

Being trapped in TV-land was bad enough without being separated already! Not to mention that he probably had to look out for people with guns or knives coming at him for not even trying to play his role.

That thought finally gave him the motivation to straighten his posture and put one foot directly in front of the other in a bad imitation of the walk the other models were doing. Damn, who’d have thought that something as simple as walking could be this hard? Freaking hard and looking stupid as hell.

Just as Sam was beginning to contemplate if he should put his hands on his waist or shake his hips in some way or anything alike he realized with a relieved sigh that they were nearly at the end. Great, that had been relatively quick and painless. It still bugged him that Dean was nowhere to be seen, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

It seemed he had bigger problems anyway.

“I had to end up in line behind you! God, what were you thinking? I’m going to look like a total loser, just because I had to be behind you!” The same blonde woman that had pushed him earlier bitched while glaring daggers at Sam.

“Like you need his help to look bad”, the brunette whose walk he had imitated quipped never failing to give a completely innocent look despite the tone of her voice.

“You’re such a bitch!” Blondie hissed moving a bit closer to the other woman.

“Look, I’m sorry and… can we all calm down now?” Sam tried his hands held up in a defensive gesture, “Nothing happened…”

He didn’t even get to finish his statement before Blondie once more threw a fit. “Nothing? Nothing happened? You ruined everything! This is not nothing, this is everything! You are nothing!” she accentuated every other word with rather annoying and increasingly hard pokes to Sam’s ribs.

After that he couldn’t help wondering if models that failed were shot around here or something alike. He wouldn’t put that past the Trickster after all. He also wouldn’t put it past most TV-programs to be honest. Chances were Blondie was just blowing everything way out of proportion though.

“It’s alright, it’s alright” a red-haired woman stepped in and hugged Blondie who had started to cry in the meantime, “They’ll see that everything was his fault and send him home tonight.”

And with that Sam realized that he wasn’t just in some fashion-show and that he’d much rather be in another advert than face any of the possible things that were coming his way.

 

* * *

 

 

The scene-change came abruptly and without warning, but the scene before him was pretty much the one Sam had anticipated. With one important exception though.

“Dude, what happened to you?” Sam asked barely containing his chuckles as he gave his brother another one-over still being unable to quite believe what he saw.

The hot-pink satined jacket alone would have been bad enough but the frilly black shirt underneath and the fact that Dean could barely move his fingers with all the large colorful rings he wore combined with the fact that there were eyeliner and blush involved were making it impossible for Sam not to laugh loudly.

“Don’t know what _you_ are laughing about, queen of the catwalk”, Dean mumbled with an expression that he’d have called a bitch-face if Sam had made it. Of course it was a mask of rightful annoyance when Dean did it though.

What he had just said made quite clear that in some way he had seen the entire catwalk-episode Sam had just been forced into however. Well, damn! But at least he had something to tease Dean right back with, always supposing that somehow they’d both get out of this alive.

“You really were having a bad week, Sam” the main juror – Tyra Banks, not that either of the brothers would admit that they knew the name – spoke in a grave tone that left Sam quite unaffected. When wasn’t he having a bad week? Also he didn’t particularly care for his progress on this show he wouldn’t be on much longer… hopefully.

What didn’t leave him quite that unaffected was the picture of the photo shoot he had never done that was shown on a big screen next to him.

“Do you see what’s wrong with this, Sam?” the third jury member asked with a sad sigh, while Tyra looked stern and probably a little disappointed… Dean of course was just laughing his ass off.

“Geishas are usually female” Sam pressed his answer through gritted teeth ineffectively trying not to look at the picture. It was like a car-accident really, no matter how awful the scene and no matter how little you actually wanted to see it, something made you look all the same.

“No, Sam”, Tyra stated while shaking her head, “Your _attitude_ is the real problem! You want to be a model, the client wants to see you as a Geisha, _you_ have to sell it!”

Sam really didn’t have anything to say to that. In fact he wasn’t quite sure he understood the logic behind the statement in the first place, what he understood was that the Trickster really had to hate him with a passion though.

Tyra then gave Dean a look, which Dean countered with a flirty look, which she answered with a frown.

“Oh, you want my opinion”, Dean realized and while he didn’t exactly enjoy the Trickster’s game he couldn’t help smirking, “Come on, that just wasn’t his theme. I’m seeing something like ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ or ‘Ghost Whisperer’… but get a costume his size next time, there’s _way_ too much leg involved.”

After all the scene-changes they had been subjected to both brothers realized the signs that their cameo appearance in ‘America’s Next Top Model’ was coming to an end. Sam still managed to give Dean a final glare and grumble: “I hope we end up on American Idol next!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Ghastly Eternity for beta reading!


	3. Chapter 2

** 2 **

 

“American Idol?” Dean asked with a groan “American Idol? Really, Sam? Did you have to tempt the douchebag?”

Walking through the forest they had appeared in next to his brother Sam shrugged completely unfazed. “It’d only have been fair. Even if he wouldn’t have made you sing… you’d have suffered!”

“’Suffer’ doesn’t quite cut it” Dean shot back with a snort, “Pretty sure having to listen to your singing would count as cruel and unusual punishment. On second thought, you should try and use that on the Trickster.”

“Sure, Dean, I’ll just serenade him to death” Sam replied immediately rolling his eyes though he had to admit that the mental image was quite amusing.

Dean did nothing to prevent a small smile from forming on his face. Their moments of brotherly bickering and banter might be few and far between these days but when they happened he could still enjoy them. Until he remembered that they were truly and utterly screwed and had been even before the Trickster had shown up which was a sure-fire way to destroy the moment.

The forest they were walking through seemed nice enough, which was alarming in itself as paradox as that might sound, but the complete absence of action had them both on edge after a very short amount of time.

“While we got a moment” Sam broke the silence that had begun to feel very tense “What do you think Cas was trying to tell us?”

He had tried to figure out what exactly their angelic friend might know about the Trickster that had made the creature silence him immediately but to tell the truth the damnable being hadn’t exactly left them with time to think on their hands. Sam was sure if he had been able to just sit down and think for a minute he could have come up with an idea or some theory. As things were he was rather busy with trying to figure out what kind of TV-show they were currently in and what they would have to do to get through it though.

“Damned if I know” Dean replied looking rather thoughtfully. He too had racked his brains over the matter but it was damn hard to figure Castiel out on good days and he hadn’t been able to give them much to work with before he had been sent away. The older Winchester had the niggling feeling that there was something he was missing anyway.

It didn’t help that they were thrown from one scenario to the next without much time to reflect upon anything in between. Hell if Dean thought about it he realized that it basically was like he popped out of existence as soon as he wasn’t ‘on screen’ so to say, which meant he could only use the time that he was also starring in one of the Trickster’s little shows.

Of course when the brothers were actually able to get their mental wheels spinning there would always be something else to occupy their attention immediately.

As if on cue a blonde woman in shorts and a bikini top came running past them screaming her head off. Thinking about it this was the closest to their real lives that the Trickster had dropped them in yet.

“Oh crap” Dean cursed under his breath as they looked into the direction the woman had come from and saw what looked like some sort of summer camp straight out of the movies. Well, it was straight out of the movies, only not the kind of family friendly summer camp movie.

“Camp Crystal Lake” Sam read out loud. It took another moment for the penny to drop. “Oh come on!”

It was a safe bet that the killer would be coming their way soon, so the brothers started to run into the general direction the woman had run into. They were careful not to follow her too closely however.

Hard as that might sound but she was dead meat. Usually the thought would have disturbed both of them and they would have worked their asses off to save her, but if the Trickster wanted to get a character he had brought into existence in the first place killed that was a different matter altogether.

“So, how do we kill that thing?” Sam asked automatically while they were still running and looking for a hiding place.

“If you knew your own culture a little better…” Dean began but stopped because they probably didn’t have much time to spare, “Nobody’s ever successfully killed Jason, there’s always another sequel… or remake… do remakes count?”

This time Sam would even admit to giving his brother a bitch-face.

“Everybody knows that remakes count for nothing” he muttered under his breath after they had hidden behind a big oak-tree.

They both knew that this wouldn’t get them anywhere and that it wasn’t how the game they were forced to play worked but it was hard to break away from every habit that had been formed over years on the job in the matter of… however long it was that they had been trapped here.

“This is all about playing our roles” Sam reminded himself and his brother after a moment of consideration “What would our roles be in this?”

The female’s bloodcurdling scream gave them a pretty good idea what the answer to that one was however.

So she was just some illusion the Trickster had created but of course for the moment being they were a part of this movie-world which meant they weren’t supposed to think like that. Besides if they refused Jason would just be coming for them next.

Dean gave a long-suffering groan but ran toward the noise alongside his brother anyway.

“Wow, even uglier in real life” he commented picking up a stone to throw at the masked killer. They had to get his attention somehow but preferably while they weren’t too close to the machete Jason was waving around.

Luckily the woman had somehow managed to get at least as far away from the killer as the brothers were. It was so much harder not to view her as a living, breathing person once eye-contact had been established.

The brothers came to the silent understanding that they weren’t going to run but try their luck in hand-to-hand combat. How much worse than the average fist-fight against a demon could it be really?

“Hey Sammy” Dean just couldn’t help saying as Jason started to advance toward them “Let’s hope this isn’t the kind of horror-scenario where only one person can survive, huh?”

Sam groaned before he replied: “You just had to say that now!”

In theory Jason Vorhees was just a human being, but of course they had to operate on movie-logic here, which meant he was a damn near unstoppable slasher-killer that could do pretty much everything including instant teleportation when nobody was looking.

Thinking about it like that running might have been the better option after all especially since they had no guarantee which course of action would lead them out of ‘Friday 13th’ and to some other show or movie.

The realization came a little late however seeing how Sam had just ducked under the swinging machete and was now trying to unbalance the killer with a kick to the knee that didn’t really do much good. Whatever the killer was made of flesh and bone couldn’t be it, at least not the usual variety of those.

Dean took the chance while Jason was preoccupied to try and knock the machete out of his hand, which in turn gave Sam the opportunity to get back to a standing position.

It took their combined effort to finally gain purchase of the blade so Dean could embed it in the killer’s chest.

They watched him fall to the ground with relieved sighs.

“I’m never going to complain about run-of-the-mill demons again” Sam promised pushing his hair out of his face “At least they are following the laws of physics… mostly.”

“Oh please, it wasn’t even that b…” Dean started just as Jason abruptly got to his feet again yanking the blade from his own flesh and swinging it at Sam, who only had enough time to raise his arms defensively…


	4. Chapter 3

** 3 **

 

Sam was still holding his arms up waiting for the machete to impact on his skin when the loud chants of “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry” brought to his attention that the scene had changed once more.

“Son of a -” Dean said before a beeping sound covered up the rest of his statement.

It spoke volumes about the mental state Sam was in that his first thought to that went along the lines of “Strange, I thought they added those sound-effects in post-production”.

“My guests today are Sam and Dean,” Jerry Springer finally began to talk. Both Winchesters could have gladly lived without that ever happening though. Chances were that whatever they were here for they wouldn’t like it. Not liking whatever the hell was going on seemed to be what everything was about to them these days.

“Sam, you teamed up with a demon behind your brother’s back and started the Apocalypse,” the talk-show host went on like he was talking about nothing more than one of the usual scenarios that were brought up on his show. Well, it was Jerry Springer they were on, so of course their story might even be considered pretty tame compared to what their everyday guest would talk about.

The audience booed energetically.

Sam hid his face in his hands before allowing himself a moment to express his annoyance in a tone of voice dangerously close to a whine, “I want back to Camp Crystal Lake!”

Dean apparently agreed with him if the expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Look, um,” he started addressing the talk-show master “It’s not like… I mean he was being played and Ruby was one manipulating -” The beeping cut him off once more.

To tell the truth Dean found it sort of hard to defend his brother in the matter. While he was glad that Sam had seen sense in the end – even if it had been too late – and that they were back to fighting together he still couldn’t say that there were absolutely no hard feelings. Also expressing his thoughts on the topic while a studio audience and an annoying jerk were listening just wasn’t Dean’s piece of pie so to say.

“I have a question!” one of the audience members said standing up and focusing her stare at Sam, “What does it feel like to know we’re all going to die because of you?”

And wasn’t that woman lucky that they hadn’t been able to bring any guns into TV-land? Wanting to shoot annoying but ultimately innocent bystanders was by no means Sam’s first reaction on any normal day, but this was different on so many levels that he found the thought rather pleasant.

“What do you think it feels like?” he shot back rather sarcastically glancing over to his brother just to see if he could read any thoughts on the topic on his face. As expected there really wasn’t anything new there, just the usual disappointment and general dislike of the subject.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair that everyone’s only blaming you when Dean was the one to break the first seal?” another audience member asked.

Even though that one seemed to be more on his side Sam’s urge to kill rose again immediately. Why did all those idiots think they could comment on their lives anyway? The Trickster made them do it of course! The urge to kill didn’t fade when Sam reminded himself of that fact it just found a new and more fitting target.

“Alright,” Dean interrupted Sam’s inner musings about all the nasty things he wanted to do to the Trickster, “How do we get out of here as fast as possible?”

“We answer questions and talk about crap we wouldn’t talk about in private on national television,” the younger Winchester explained what he was pretty sure would get them through this the fastest, though he knew that his brother was going to resist the idea especially since talking about private things was involved.

Dean’s entire reply was covered up by beeping noises this time but it was easy enough to figure out what he had just said anyway.

“Now you’re just trying to say every word they’ll censor,” Sam observed slightly irritated, “And that won’t get us anywhere!”

It wasn’t like he was so keen on sharing his feelings on the freaking Apocalypse with a bunch of strangers but at least they weren’t really on national television, so that was something. Damn, now that he thought about it he wouldn’t put it past the Trickster to actually broadcast the little scheme he had going on here or at least bits and pieces of it.

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that? It’s -” censorship of course once more wouldn’t allow him to go on talking uninterrupted, “Jerry Springer! How do you know we don’t have to curse our -” at this part the beeping returned with a vengeance, “off? Or maybe we’re just seriously overdressed!” Dean was getting frustrated with being censored in mid-speech. Freedom of speech apparently went hand in hand with the freedom to censor whatever the fuck they wanted. And yes, Dean was getting agitated about being unable to use swearwords but he had had it with TV-land for quite some time already and he had loathed the fucking Trickster ever since they had first met him to begin with, so excuse him for losing his nerves!

“Sure, Dean, you’d rather get naked than talk… now that’s new!” Sam retorted with more annoyance than was actually aimed at his brother but Dean wasn’t the only one this was getting to. Not to mention that apparently the freaking theme of the show was just how bad Sam had fucked everything up.

“Bite me!” Dean shot back immediately and with more force than he had intended to use.

“You two really need to calm down and think about the people you are hurting with your behavior,” the talk-show host interrupted their argument in a grave tone that was supposed to come across as caring.

The brothers stopped yelling at each other, if only because they both didn’t really know that the jerk was talking about. He had clearly just spoken about them bickering so who the hell could they be hurting with that? Other than each other of course but that was kind of the point.

Thinking about it like that they really should stop before things got completely out of hand and they ended up saying things they’d really regret.

“Huh?” Dean asked eloquently just as Sam said, “Come again?”

“You really should have resolved your conflicts before you chose to adopt the little one,” Jerry elaborated putting a sad expression on his face as he pointed toward the video-wall that was showing Castiel’s face.

The angel was looking around confused but seemed otherwise no worse than he had been the last time he had managed to get to them. That was something at least. Before either of the three men could say anything or try to communicate in another fashion the screen went blank again.

It figured that the Trickster would not give Castiel the chance to finish saying what he had meant to tell the brothers but the very fact that he had brought the angel to the talk-show showed how sure he was that Cas couldn’t do anything against him.

While the Winchesters still were nowhere near solving their predicament they at least had learned two important things: Castiel was alive and relatively fine and the Trickster had a power-level that had to be well enough above that of an angel. Granted, the latter didn’t really help them since they had suspected that already. Dean’s niggling feeling that he wasn’t seeing something that was right in front of his eyes became stronger though.

“Castiel is a strong… person, he can take listening to us argue,” Sam said somewhat lamely. His real thoughts were more into the direction that Castiel didn’t like him anyway so as long as it seemed that Dean was going to win the argument he clearly wouldn’t give a damn. If he voiced that thought it’d only bring an issue to the table that really wasn’t an issue at all however.

For a guy that was way out of touch with his own feelings Dean sure had the tendency to pick up on everything he thought Sam might be implying and then blow it out of proportion so badly that Sam wished he had never said anything to begin with.

“He also knows that we’re just letting off some steam,” he added after it became clear that Dean wasn’t even dreaming about contributing to the conversation, “And that we really… um… have this family-bond…”

Sam might be more in touch with his feelings than his bigger brother – which wasn’t hard in the first place – but he wasn’t going to say that he loved his brother in front of an audience he didn’t feel comfortable around without either of them close to death.

“Yeah… what he said,” Dean agreed with a curt nod.

Maybe if they could overcome the differences that the show said they had that would be the end of it. It was worth a shot anyway.

“Hug, hug, hug!” the audience chanted which had the brothers stare at each other awkwardly.

In the end it was Sam that just grabbed his brother and pulled him into a bear-hug.


	5. Chapter 4

** 4 **

 

The scene change had been anticipated. However, the person Sam had his arms around after the change wasn’t.

“Now that’s what I call a friendly welcome,” the middle aged blonde woman commented before he even got a chance to let her go. It also didn’t help that she was hugging him right back.

“That’s how he greets everyone,” Dean chipped in and patted his brother’s shoulder. He had been able to assess their situation in the time that Sam needed to extract himself from the woman.

They clearly were in a kitchen and though Dean was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be able to take anything knife-like with them to the next TV-show it still was reassuring to know that they’d have them at their disposal in case Martha Stewart decided to go all psycho-killer on their asses while they were there.

There was no shame in recognizing the woman as easily as Dean had. It wasn’t like he was watching the show regularly or something, but sometimes it was on before Dr. Sexy so he’d catch glimpses.

Honest to God – or whatever higher power there was that’d actually give a crap – this was not another guilty pleasure to him. Really why should he watch the freaking Martha Stewart Show? They simply didn’t have any use for arts and crafts as their lives went. The mental image of knives and guns adorned with glitter, tassels or any other arts and crafts crap alone was enough to make Dean shiver.

Most of the motel rooms they stayed in admittedly could use a good make-over but he had never felt the urge to do the redecorating himself. At least not if the redecoration entailed more than breaking things. He had felt like doing that more often than not however.

“You two brought an old-family recipe with you,” Martha stated with a friendly smile looking at them both questioningly for a moment before turning her attention back to Sam.

The way she stood too close for comfort while staring rather intently suddenly reminded the younger Winchester a lot of Castiel. The only difference was that their angelic friend usually focused most of his attention on Dean, which Sam found a lot more amusing than having his own personal bubble invaded by Martha Stewart.

“Uh… yeah,” Sam replied not feeling rather eloquent with the woman basically pressed up to him.

The Trickster was really going out of his way just to make him uncomfortable for all it looked like. Sam didn’t know much about the Martha Stewart Show but he doubted that this was the usual behavior the woman displayed.

Actually if he thought about it the Trickster had been going out of his way to pick on Sam right from the beginning. Okay, Dean had had his fair share of annoying moments but they weren’t piled up on him in quite the same way they were on Sam.

Then again maybe he was just imagining things because freaking Martha Stewart was basically molesting him.

“Trickster on a skewer,” Dean explained in a dead serious tone, which brought a small smirk to his brother’s face as well, even as their host was finding new and imaginative ways to make him very uncomfortable.

Next to this version of Martha Stewart, Becky the super-fan looked nearly tame. On second thought if Sam had absolutely had to choose one of those two to spend an evening with he’d have chosen Martha if only because she wasn’t actually real and he could technically punch her in the face without harming a human being. And even though – again technically – he had beheaded Paris Hilton not too long ago Sam didn’t think that these were signs for him either being misogynist or just plain psychopathic. Even he himself would not vouch for his mental stability seen as a whole though.

“That sounds very exotic” Martha stated with a thoughtful nod after a moment of consideration “I am not sure we have all the ingredients at hand.” What she apparently had at hand – quite literally – was Sam’s biceps.

“Ah, but there’s not much stuff needed,” Dean retorted with some malicious glee in his eyes at the thought alone “Just find the bastard and run him through with a very pointy stick… salt and burn for good measure. Voila.”

Apparently the Trickster thought the joke had gone far enough at that moment however as one of the studio lights dropped from the ceiling right in front of Dean’s feet.

Their host of course took the opportunity to throw her arms around Sam with a surprised shriek, snuggling up to him like her life depended on it.

Dean of course thought that was funny, Sam just felt violated through and through at this point. Really he had been touched against his will at many occasions but most of those had been in fight situations or had had something to do with being kidnapped and he’d take that over the overly affectionate attention he was receiving that very moment any day.

“Alright, so we should cook something, huh?” Sam stated quickly forcing Martha away from him by moving over to the part of the table where the food they had at their disposal was being displayed.

Grabbing a package of white bread, he threw it over to Dean who caught it easily. Taking two glasses from the table he went back over to his brother who frowned questioningly for a moment but he understood what Sam was up to quickly enough. It wasn’t that hard to guess from the ingredients he had collected.

“Peanut butter and jelly, a classic,” Dean commented with an approving nod taking two slices of bread from the package.

To tell the truth he’d have murdered for the chance to do something that’d even give them a remote chance of getting the upper hand on the Trickster and get back to their real lives but since no possibilities were presenting themselves there was nothing other they could do but go along.

Dean had been scanning every single scenario for any kind of mistake the Trickster might have made ever since they had found out what was going on but this far there had been nothing. Well, he could be patient if he needed to be while the Trickster clearly was a toddler on a sugar-high with a severe case of ADHS. Sooner or later he was bound to make a mistake!

“It’s even healthy” Dean commented while coating one slice of bread with the peanut butter, “Peanuts count as fruit and the jelly is blackberry.”

Sam didn’t comment on that and just went on spreading the jelly on the slice of bread he was working on. Technically peanuts were not that easy to classify having characteristics of both fruit and vegetable, technically there wasn’t much but sugar and chemical stuff in the jelly, technically calling a PB&J Sandwich healthy was close to blasphemy, but actually Sam just didn’t give a damn at this point.

“Forgot the most important ingredient, Sammy!” Dean suddenly states quite theatrically, “Where’s the beer?”

So this wasn’t a chance to get rid of the Trickster, but it was a chance to get some alcohol into his system and Dean wouldn’t pass that one up. Either that or the douche wouldn’t want to give them the satisfaction and switch them to some other channel, which also would count as a win for them. New game – new luck and all that jazz.

After a few moments, Martha handed a beer-bottle over to the older Winchester. “And now you’re going to make some sauce with that?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Dean shrugged lightly before taking a bite of the sandwich and a swig of the beer.

Sam’s automatic response to that was a disbelieving and a little worried expression, after all Dean was just willingly ingesting food the Trickster had provided them with. Then again if the creature had wanted to see them dead they’d have been dead already, so they probably were safer than they were on any of their usual days.

“And what do you say?” Sam asked after watching his brother chew for a couple of moments. In all honesty he was surprised that they were still there. He too would have figured that the scene would change before Dean could take the first bite or especially the first drink.

“We’re awesome cooks,” his brother replied smirking slightly which made the younger Winchester snort in amusement as well.

By that point they had crossed the line where they could either laugh or cry about their situation and laughing just seemed like the better option. Of course the best option, namely murdering the Trickster until he was undoubtedly and irretrievably dead and gone, was not available to them at that very moment.

“As they say, always finish on a high note,” Martha commented, a bright and content smile on her face “I’m saying thank you to Dean and Sam for being here and we’ll be back after the commercials.”

Both Winchesters looked a little unsettled and groaned heartily at that announcement, Martha however, took the last chance she’d get to pinch Sam’s backside.


	6. Chapter 5

** 5 **

 

The first thing Sam noticed about his new surroundings was that Dean had vanished once more, and by default that, that could never mean anything good!

Just a moment later he was distracted from his worries by realizing that for some reason he was just about to exit an airplane. Alright, he could go along with that he supposed.

He just hoped that this wasn’t meant to be some sort of disaster-movie and that the very strong wind wasn’t an indication for a hurricane or tornado about to come.

“Munich. 8:30 a.m.,“ the before unheard voiceover stated, damn near giving Sam a heart-attack in the process, “Extreme wind.”

“You don’t say,” Sam muttered under his breath taking a step down the stairway. This was as far as he would get before a big piece of paper hit him right in the face and thus momentarily disoriented the younger Winchester and made him take a tumble down the rest of the stairs.

“The hairstyle keeps,” the voiceover commented.

Before Sam could register any pain or search himself for injuries the scene shifted to a beach that might have been some place in Florida. Dean was still missing however.

“Miami. 2:15 p.m.,“ the increasingly annoying voice made itself heard again, “Extreme heat.”

Again Sam couldn’t argue with that. If he had felt the urge to argue about something it would have been the choice of outfit the Trickster had given him. He probably should have been grateful that even though the swimming trunks were too tight for his personal taste, they at least weren’t too close to being speedos, but Sam refused to appreciate small mercies in this case. After all, the other shoe had yet to drop as he was sure.

It wasn’t quite a shoe but a gigantic beach ball instead, and it didn’t as much drop as it did strike Sam in the back that proved him right.

“The hairstyle keeps.”

The younger Winchester might have felt the urge to yell at the voiceover to shut the hell up but before he could even finish the thought he realized three things.

First; He was dressed properly again, which was the good thing. Second; It was now night, which was just stating neutral facts. And third; A couple of what looked like vampires were chasing him, which was pretty damn awful.

“Jerkwater town, Midnight,” the narration returned still using the very same rather monotone voice as before, “Running for your life.”

Once more Sam just had to agree with the voiceover no matter how much he hated it. He didn’t have much time to focus on that as he tried to keep ahead of the seemingly starved vampires, which was getting harder by the second.

“Okay, okay, we get it,” he finally panted toward the skies, “The hairstyle keeps!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sam,” Dean yelled as soon as he noticed that his brother was nowhere in sight but of course the younger Winchester didn’t reply. “Son of a bitch.”

If that douchebag of a Trickster thought that they’d give in just because he separated them, he was wrong!

At least the bathroom he was in looked quite decent, he had to admit that much. The fact that he was in a bathroom to begin with was worrying however. This basically screamed horror-flick yet again!

Dean quickly scanned the room for any object he might be able to use the moment Norman Bates or any other killer walked into the room. There really wasn’t much to choose from but he felt unexplainably drawn to a can sitting on the shelf by the basin.

“Better than nothing,” he muttered picking it up and noticing that it was some kind of deodorant as he did so.

Once more Dean didn’t quite know why he did it but he had the overwhelming urge to spray some into the room. He of course knew that this was most likely the Trickster influencing him, but in this case Dean didn’t see the point in resisting. There were better things he should preserve his energies for.

“Okay… that’s actually not half-bad,” he nodded to himself slightly, beginning to wonder if he should just leave the room.

He didn’t get the chance to move before something crashed through the roof and landed right in front of his feet. Only when the dust had settled a little could Dean see that it was indeed Castiel lying flat on his face. The angel groaned slightly and the Winchester just kept staring for another few moments – to be honest though he didn’t think anyone could have managed not to stare dumbly considering that Castiel was wearing some kind of tunic and what probably even were his real wings were on display – before he moved to help his friend up.

“Damn, are you okay?” he asked worriedly, “What the hell was that anyway?”

Castiel looked quite determined to say something while he had the time but before he could do more than grab Dean’s shoulder what the Winchester would only be able to describe as a voiceover interrupted them.

“The new Axe Excite – even angels will fall!”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean hit the table he was suddenly sitting at with his balled fist in frustration. Again Castiel had been taken away before he could have said anything!

At the other side of the table, Sam jumped slightly.

The Winchester brothers looked at each other and there was no use denying that they were quite glad to have been reunited at least.

Apparently they were sitting in a bar, not unlike most of the thousands they had been in over the years, and a cute red-haired waitress was coming their way with two beers. They both started searching for the catch immediately. There had to be one, this much was absolutely clear.

“Here you go,” the waitress piped giving Dean a flirty look and a wink before setting the beverages on the table. If the brothers didn’t have good reasons to believe that this might be another commercial for something to do with sexually transmitted diseases Dean would have flirted back. Instead he grabbed the beer and took a swig. He frowned even as his eyes lit up slightly.

“This is great,” Dean commented before disbelievingly taking another drink.

Sam smirked slightly as he raised the bottle in front of him and pointed the label out for his brother. “Alcohol free,” he read out loud to make completely sure that the older Winchester got the message.

“Son of a bitch had to ruin it!” Dean complained with a sour expression.

 

* * *

 

 

“Unwanted body hair, a problem most women know all too well,” a cheerful female voice stated just a moment after the Winchester brothers found themselves in a quite bland looking setting this time. There was no color anywhere, white walls and a white floor and no furniture to be seen.

It took a few more moments before Sam realized that he was wearing shorts and there was a very suspicious looking something attached to his right leg. The younger Winchester gulped, his eyes turning even wider when he confirmed that he was the only one who had at some point been attacked with wax stripes.

It wasn’t very reassuring that Dean had a certain expression on his face either.

“Don’t you dare,” Sam warned his brother moving away from him ever so slightly, “Seriously dude, this is where I draw the line!”

“Don’t think that the Trickster will care for that,” Dean replied not apologetic in the slightest as he tackled his brother to the floor and gripped the edge of the wax stripe, “Relax and think of England, Sammy.”

“Our new formula allows for very smooth and gentle hair removal,” the narration set in again, “Many women are too afraid to wax their legs afraid that it might hurt but...”

The rest of the statement was forever lost when Dean pulled the wax stripe off his brother’s leg and Sam screamed bloody murder.

 

* * *

 

 

The spot on Sam’s leg still hurt, so this time he had actually taken something from the one setting to the next. It seemed he hadn’t taken his brother with him once more however. To be honest though after that last incident it was probably better that he didn’t have the chance to get into an argument with Dean.

Before he could get into his musings even more a rather bland looking guy handed him a glass of Coca-Cola if the writing on his cap was any indication. All in all he looked normal enough, cropped hair, round face and a rather average built. All that and the encouraging smile the guy gave Sam still did nothing to make him feel better about drinking anything the Trickster clearly wanted him to drink though.

He had only just taken a sip as another man pushed a new glass into his free hand.

This one wore a cap and shirt saying Pepsi. The guy was quite short and not in the way most people looked short standing next to Sam, he quite clearly was objectively seen on the short side of the spectrum. Besides he physically resembled the Trickster in more ways than Sam was comfortable with. If he had had a stake at hand he might have used it just to be sure. Instead he took a sip of the new glass. There was nothing else he could do anyway.

“And?” the one guy prompted before the other one continued, “Which is better?”

Sam frowned slightly and shrugged, “Sorry, I can’t tell a difference.”

Before the younger Winchester knew what was happening, he was flying through a window.


	7. Chapter 6

** 6 **

 

If there was one thing Sam and Dean had learned from being trapped in TV-land, then it was adapting to new situations quickly and acting accordingly.

For Dean, this meant sitting by a large rounded table, a pokerface firmly in place as he was looking at the cards he was holding. Entering in the middle of a game definitely gave him a disadvantage, but he had enough confidence in his abilities at playing poker so he wasn’t seriously worried.

The next thing he put his focus on was finding his brother, of course.

And that was when Dean just had to step out of character.

“Oh my… Dude, what the…?” he managed between laughs, before he couldn’t do anything but laugh for quite some time. In fact he was quite breathless and gulping in air like he was suffocating before he managed to calm down a little. Of course he just had to take another good look at his brother and burst into another fit of laughter though.

So what if it was the Trickster’s stupid little fantasy world? So what if they were basically powerless to do anything against their imprisonment? So what if they and probably the entire world were screwed? Seeing Sam in a sparkly black cocktail-dress was more than enough to make Dean laugh like a maniac.

Sam on the other hand was eerily quiet and just looked at Dean, the annoyance clearly written all over his face. The silence lasted nearly as long as Dean’s laughing did. “Are you quite done yet?”

The older Winchester nodded, wiping tears of laughter from his face. He bit his tongue for a second, not wanting to push his brother over the edge he was quite clearly dangerously close to, but he lost the fight against the little voice in his head, which was still laughing.

“Aren’t you glad we waxed your legs earlier now?” he asked, keeping his voice and expression neutral this time.

Sam narrowed his eyes dangerously and swiftly kicked his brother’s leg under the table with as much force as he could. Dean’s muffled yelp made him feel a little better.

Besides, as unfortunately was easy to be seen, they had not waxed Sam’s entire legs. There just was that one hairless stripe. Not that it mattered, he’d have looked damn stupid in the dress anyway.

“Do you need some time alone with your lovely companion, Mr. Bond?” the man sitting across the table from Dean asked in the sort of charming but ultimately sleazy tone that only movie villains could master.

The question made both Winchesters wonder what exactly the others were seeing. It couldn’t be a 6’4’’ guy with a murderous expression wearing a cocktail-dress, which was less than ideal for his built, they were both quite sure.

Only then Dean noticed something else the guy had said. “Wait, did he just call me…?” he wondered out loud giving his brother a short look searching for confirmation, “Okay, that’s cool.”

His inner child was giggling gleefully at the realization that that made Sam his Bond-girl, but there’d be a time and place to bring that up, there and then wasn’t it. He had a poker game to play and, given his role in the scenario, win.

Picking the cards, he had put on the table face down earlier, back up and looking at the bets the other players had made, he grabbed a few chips and threw them toward the middle of the table.

A couple of hands were played just like that and even though Sam knew he should be grateful for nothing more happening, he couldn’t help wondering what lame kind of James Bond story this was. He wouldn’t dream about complaining about not having to run in the stupid dress and – thankfully flat but still uncomfortable – shoes he had been forced into however.

In the end, as had to be expected, only Dean and the bad guy were left in the game. While Dean didn’t have the best hand of the day, he still was quite confident that he was just meant to win this. The real question in his opinion was what the other man would do, once it became clear that he had lost.

They both put their cards down pretty much simultaneously. As Dean had suspected he had had the better hand and so he moved to take the chips.

“Not so quick, Mr. Bond,” the villain stated fixing him with a cold glare, “I’m afraid we can’t let you leave like this.”

“I knew it,” Dean muttered, sitting back down for what it looked like, before he quickly grabbed the edge of the table and knocked it over to distract the others for the few moments he and Sam would need.

The younger Winchester was already turning to run, before his brother ever yelled for him to do so. It seemed they ended up in places they had to run away from quickly quite regularly. Thinking about it, this was one aspect taken straight from their everyday lives.

They reached the staircase quickly and without any troubles, but of course that meant that some goons were already running up the stairs toward them, so they only could run upward themselves.

“You just had to annoy them by winning,” Sam groaned feeling his thighs burn, since he wasn’t used to running in a dress and with shoes that could fall off his feet at any second.

“Hey, I’m James Bond! Of course I had to win!” Dean shot back. Furthermore, if the Trickster had wanted them to end up like this, it would have happened no matter what.

The younger Winchester couldn’t quite deny the logic Dean was operating on anyway. They were in a movie so, of course, movie logic applied, and it seemed like a foregone conclusion that James Bond would win every game he entered.

They were lucky and reached the door to the roof the very second their followers began shooting at them, and - lucky once more – there was a barrel they could block the door with. It wasn’t quite so lucky that there was no exit on the roof to be seen.

Following a sudden inspiration, Dean grabbed the canvas, which had been covering the barrels, and moved toward the edge of the building.

“Sorry, Sammy, this is quite likely gonna add a panty-shot to the list,” he quipped, gesturing for his brother to get over to him already. “You _are_ wearing underwear, right? On second thought, don’t answer that!”

Not that Sam had been about to say anything to the topic, he had been about to say something to another topic however. “Dean, that’s not going to work. We’re too heavy and even if it was just one of us, that’s just not how these things work!”

“In movies it is!” Dean argued and grabbed his brother to force him to go along with the plan. He also was pretty sure that the Trickster didn’t want them dead. Actually he was a hundred percent sure that the Trickster didn’t want them dead. They couldn’t ‘play their roles’ in real life if they were after all. If there had been time Dean would have tried to figure out why the hell the unhindered course of the Apocalypse was important to anyone but the angels in the first place, but as things were they had to move on.

Their landing was a rather hard one, but considering the circumstances, that was good enough. They saw that the goons had broken through the door and were now staring down at them from the top of the building, just as the Winchesters were about to turn around the next best corner.

After they had put a little more distance between them and the building Dean turned around to give his brother a sort of victorious look. “Told you!”

Sam didn’t reply and just leaned against a nearby wall with a heavy sigh, staring into the distance for a few moments before Dean’s worried voice brought him back to the present. “Everything alright, Sam?”

The truth was that the younger Winchester wasn’t alright. His suspicion, that the Trickster might be trying to tell him something, by picking on him more and most of the time more directly than on Dean, wouldn’t leave him alone and was weighting him down.

Instead of saying anything about this, he just nodded slightly, sighing once more but also standing upright again. “Sometimes I’m just so tired…” he began before a very sudden scene change interrupted him.

 

* * *

 

“Good night, John Boy!” the annoyingly cheerful voice of a young girl sounded through the night, that was otherwise completely silent, except for a cricket here and there.

“Good night, Elizabeth! Good night, Daddy!” the no less annoying voice of a young man replied, apparently trying to beat the other one as far as the cheerfulness was concerned.

“Good night, son! Good night, Mary Ellen!” an older male joined in with a fond tone of voice.

“Good night, daddy! Good night, Dean!” another girl shouted.

“Good night, Walton kid! Good night, Sammy!“ Dean went along with the game, sounding by far more enthusiastic than he should have.

“Oh shut the hell up!” Sam yelled back.


	8. Chapter 7

** 7 **

 

The motel room was rather small with a decor clearly out of the sixties, mixed with random newer objects to replace whatever had been broken at some point, if it had been replaced at all. In short, it looked exactly like every other motel room Sam and Dean have ever been in.

It would have been comforting, usually. The Impala was home in some sense of the word, Bobby’s house was home in a way, but the generic motel rooms, they always found everywhere all over the country also came close. They might not have spent too much time in any single one of them, but the many similarities between them still made them feel familiar.

“So, what is this?” Dean spoke first. He quite obviously didn’t trust the new setting they were in any more than his brother did.

Sam just shrugged, before he tested the bed carefully, sitting down once he deemed it safe enough. With every other location they had known something was off immediately, but this actually looked like the room they had checked into before going on the hunt for the Trickster in the first place.

“How long do you think we’ve been here?” Sam finally asked with a thoughtful frown, “Cas said we’d been missing for _days_! And that was how long ago?”

Dean just shrugged. They had no way of knowing. Even if there had been a calendar or a clock anywhere, they wouldn’t have been able to say, seeing as the Trickster could have tampered with it.

“I hate this!” Dean suddenly yelled, which made his brother jump slightly and look at him alarmed. “It’s bad enough that the douchebag is throwing us into every other TV-show he can think of, but this? Oh come on!”

Sam thought he understood what his brother was talking about, even if Dean wasn’t in the most rational mindset at the moment. Being in various fictional settings was bad enough, but being in a setting that quite likely was fictional, but didn’t seem like it was, was messing with their heads.

“He’ll get bored soon enough,” Sam tried to reassure his brother, even though he knew from experience just how long the Trickster could wait to see the end of one of his little games. He wasn’t likely to ever forget those six months, when he had thought that Dean was dead and in hell, before his time had even been up. Neither was he likely to ever forget the four months he had been on his own, when Dean had actually been dead and in hell, but the Trickster had had nothing to do with that one.

“Either that, or Michael or Lucifer will catch on and come to get us,” Dean replied dryly.

Both options sucked in both their opinions. Either they were at the mercy of one crazy-ass Trickster or they were at the mercy of one crazy-ass archangel and Satan himself. You knew your life was completely fucked up, when being at the mercy of the Trickster sounded like the better option.

There was only a moment of silence before somebody knocked on the door.

The Winchesters exchanged looks and Dean’s hand automatically searched for the gun that he’d usually have tucked into the waistband of his trousers. That there was nothing was a pretty good indication for this not being part of their real lives, if he thought about it. The knocking resumed and Dean went to open the door cautiously. Now this was the definite answer to the question, if this could possibly be real!

“Your ride has been officially pimped!” Xzibit exclaimed cheerfully. A second later the show host was lying on the floor, holding his nose. “Ah man, what was that for?”

“Sam… they touched my baby!” Dean pressed through gritted teeth, “Enough is enough! I’m going to kill that son of a bitch!”

Sam quickly held his brother’s arms behind his back. He was a little unsure, if the older Winchester had talked about Xzibit, the Trickster or both, he had a feeling that they’d be in trouble if they tried to kill their show-host however.

“It’s not the real Impala, Dean,” he reminded his brother, hoping that he hadn’t just lied. For all they knew, the Trickster might have modified the real car in the same way. If it were so, Sam didn’t doubt that his nose would have to suffer the consequences as soon as Dean found out about it.

The older Winchester was taking deep breaths through his nose glaring at Xzibit, who had only just managed to get back to his feet. He looked astonishingly upbeat and calm for a man who had just been attacked out of the blue, but then again all this was just a part of a game.

Sam made sure to stay very close to his brother, when they went to the parking lot. He’d probably have to keep Dean from murdering everyone in sight sooner rather than later. Thinking back to Dean’s reaction to the iPod Sam had installed into the Impala, the younger Winchester thought it was a safe bet that he’d explode spectacularly this time. It was nearly too bad that there was nobody around to take bets, that would have been easily won money.

“So man, you like pie,” Xzibit stated as they approached the still covered car.

Dean’s entire posture was as stiff as it could get. “I swear if you’re ruining pie for me now, I’ll kick your sorry ass so hard you’ll never sit again!”

Their show-host ignored that the older Winchester had said anything though, instead of replying he took the cover off the Impala.

Sam cocked his head and tried his very best not to look amused. Okay, he wouldn’t want to be seen in the car the way it looked now, but Dean had had a good laugh at Sam’s expenses so often, that the younger Winchester felt it was just fair, that this time Dean had to take the brunt of the – admittedly not all too funny – joke.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dean yelled at the top of his lungs, after being completely speechless for a moment, “She’s a classic! You don’t mess with a classic! And especially not _like this_!”

To tell the truth Sam was very close to pointing out, that the new paintjob looked like it had been done professionally at least, but once more he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his brother’s fist so he bit his tongue and kept quiet. It was quite impressive how they had painted the entire Impala like one gigantic pie with whipped cream on top however.

Xzibit once more completely ignored the reaction he had just been given, which – in Sam’s opinion – confirmed that the other people were influenced to see everything they said and did in a certain way to make the Trickster’s scenarios work without him having to bother with their reactions. A part of Sam wondered how far they’d have to go to break out of their roles enough so the Trickster would have to intervene directly, but he’d probably just take them to someplace else or punish them severely. In short it wasn’t worth the effort, as long as there was no chance to really break away from the entire world the Trickster had made up.

“The interior was a big challenge, man, I’m telling you,” Xzibit told Dean with a grave nod, “But after we threw everything out, we managed to redo it in a way that matches you perfectly.”

Sam could basically see Dean going through every single swear word he knew and every single way to kill someone he could come up with in his mind, as he forced himself to just stand there.

The younger Winchester had to bite his tongue a little harder so he wouldn’t laugh or comment, but it was even harder this time, especially after seeing that the seats were now a blueberry color. Basically every other detail was of a matching color as well.

The controls and instruments had been replaced with digital ones, and, of course there was a brand-new radio. Everything in blue and with little highlights to make the impression that you were sitting in a gigantic pie even stronger.

If they had been workaholic pie-makers, they’d have been in heaven. As things were, Dean felt like he was in hell. Only this was one kind of torture not even Alastair had come up with.

Without saying a word, Dean went to open the trunk of what used to be the Impala. Before he lifted the trunk lid he gently stroked over the metal though. “Don’t worry, baby, there’ll be revenge!”

Of course Dean had known that he had been grasping at straws with the hope, that their weapons would be in the poor mutilated Impala’s trunk, but what he found instead damn near made him lose his temper for good instantly.

“D’you like your new transportable bakery?” Xzibit asked, obviously awaiting the confirmation that it was indeed great.

“Just wait a second and I’ll show you exactly how much I like it,” Dean growled, searching the trunk for anything he could use but coming up with nothing but a rolling pin. That would have to do then!


	9. Chapter 8

** 8 **

 

Unfortunately Dean didn’t get to relieve some of the pent up frustration. He had been carrying around for quite some time, even before they were thrown into the next scenario.

It didn’t help his mood any that this new world was by far too bright and colorful for his liking. It also didn’t help that their tour-guide, or whatever he was, was wearing a purple jacket and a top hat, making him look quite freaky. Oh, and of course, there was the little thing about candy growing on trees and bushes and the chocolate river.

“This is just plain weird,” Dean commented with a frown, poking at a crystallized apple, “Even for the Trickster.”

“It’s ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’,” Sam replied with a deep frown, “Apparently the Johnny Depp version.”

It really seemed like the Trickster was fond of remakes, in which case Sam could neither understand nor approve off. Oh well, he couldn’t approve of kidnapping people and putting them into TV-shows either, or, to be completely honest, of any of the things the Trickster seemed to love doing.

“Do you like my meadow? Try the grass. Please have a blade, please do. It's so delectable and so darn good looking,” Willy Wonka was telling his little tour group at that moment.

“You can eat the grass?” one of the children asked in wonder.

“Of course you can. Everything in this room is eatable. Even I'm eatable. But that is called 'cannibalism', my dear children, and is in fact frowned upon in most societies,” Willy Wonka answered in his usual tone of voice, which Dean was tempted to describe as a very bad Michael Jackson parody.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dean just had to ask his brother in a whisper, though not quite silently enough, not to be heard by the others as well, “That guy is creepy as hell and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near children!”

Sam couldn’t disagree with that. He wasn’t quite happy with the way they were drawing attention toward themselves, however. “Dude, tone it down! You know what happens to trouble-makers around here!” he hissed, not quite sure if Dean really knew what the consequences to acting up might be. Apparently he did however, which made Sam wonder which one of Dean’s one-night stands had been a fan of either Johnny Depp or ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’.

“Oh please, like I’m afraid of the Oompa Loompas,” Dean replied dismissively, “Also they only come for the kids and that’d be your role.”

“Not if the roles were chosen by mental age,” Sam muttered. With the way things had been going for him, Sam didn’t really doubt that he’d be the one the Oompa Loompas would be coming for though.

Looking around, Sam did a quick headcount. If he wasn’t remembering things very wrong, they were an additional pair of visitors, at least he was rather sure that he could identify all the other characters, and that nobody was missing. He frowned again. That meant they didn’t really have a role in this and it wasn’t exactly the kind of story where you could just add characters. On shows like Dr. Sexy or random talk-shows that worked perfectly well of course.

As had to be expected the fat kid of the group started to act up at that part and was already getting dangerously close to the chocolate river.

Sam knew how the scene was supposed to play out, he knew what was meant to happen, but when the moment came he couldn’t quite help himself. If asked later on the younger Winchester would have to say, that he had been on his knees and reaching for the kid, before he had thought it through completely.

Augustus hadn’t been in the liquid chocolate for longer than a few seconds, when Sam grabbed him and pulled him out again. He hadn’t expected to be thanked or anything alike, but he hadn’t expected everyone to practically freeze and stare at him either. Not even Augustus’ himself seemed to know what to make of the change in the story.

“That is freaky,” Dean finally broke the silence which had settled over the scene.

The brothers were standing next to each other, sort of expecting the other characters to attack them at any second, but they just kept standing in the exact positions they had been in when Sam had changed the story.

The motion returned when Willy Wonka decided to approach the Winchesters. Meanwhile, the others seemed to carry on as if nothing had happened. It probably wouldn’t be long before Augustus was falling into the chocolate again, but this time Sam wouldn’t even try to do anything about it.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for one of you to break out of character,” Willy Wonka, who apparently wasn’t who he looked like at all, stated with faked disappointment, “And I have to say I’m impressed. I thought you’d wait for one of the cuter kids to be in danger.”

“Oh please, they’re all insufferable brats. Might as well start with the first one,” Dean retorted with a snort before he demanded, “Show your real face, dickwad!”

With a snap of his fingers, the Trickster returned to his usual appearance. “Don’t you like Johnny Depp?” he asked with a smirk, his posture completely relaxed. They all were in a world he had created and controlled, it wasn’t like they could do anything against him.

“His skin doesn’t fit you,” Dean shot back immediately, “I thought you were more of an Oompa Loompa.”

Sam decided to enter the talk before the other two men had a chance to really get into a fight or something alike. Arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere, anyway.

“Look, clearly we’re not going to give in here, and clearly you won’t change your mind about the entire ‘play your roles!’ business. Can’t we call this a draw and go our separate ways?” he suggested, knowing that this was only wishful thinking. It wasn’t like they had many options that didn’t include trying to talk their situation over though.

“Nah,” the Trickster replied right after Sam had stopped speaking, “I really like you two exactly where you are right now.”

Both Winchesters would have had something to say to that, but before they even got to open their mouths a bunch of Oompa Loompas was already approaching them.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean summed up the situation and took a fighting stance. Sam sighed resigned, but prepared himself for a struggle as well anyway.

“Oompa Loompa, do-ba-dee-doo, I’ve got a perfect puzzle for you,” the miniature people began to sing, not caring about their victims willingness to fight them in the slightest.

“Oompa Loompa, do-ba-dee-dee, if you are wise you’ll listen to me,” they went on in unison, even as the Winchesters successfully fought the first few of them off. It seemed like getting rid of one of them would make two others appear though.

“Sam and Dean are massive fools, they just won’t learn to play by the rules,” the song continued, and even more Oompa Loompas joined the attack group.

“They just won’t take things as they are, not playing your roles won’t get you far,” they sang and finally managed to wrestle both Winchesters to the ground.

Moments later Sam and Dean were carried out of the room by at least a dozen Oompa Loompas each while the Trickster remained standing in the meadow, silently singing along with the song the miniature people were still performing.

Oh he still had plans for those boys, and he could keep them in TV-land for a very long time before anyone of import found out and he’d have to release them.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean both were in a bad mood when they arrived at the crime scene they had been sent to this time, but there was something that gave both of them some hope. They had gained the knowledge that the Trickster might be in the scene with them from their last adventure, and they both were determined to use that against the douchebag.

“Check out Sweet-Tooth over there,” Sam stated, pointing one of the fake C.S.I.-guys out to his brother.

“Think that’s him?” Dean asked, though he knew the answer to that one already. It was damn obvious. Actually it was too obvious, but Dean just knew that Sam knew that as well. Besides if the Trickster wanted to draw attention to that man, then they basically had to play along anyway.

What followed were moments that would make the top ten – top twenty at the very least – of the most embarrassing things either of them had ever had to do. Playing along with the scenario in this case unfortunately meant playing a part in a C.S.I. rip-off and that, of course, went hand in hand with bad puns and even worse acting.

The moment Dean staked their suspect without it having an immediate effect on their surroundings let Sam know that they had had their eyes on the wrong man, but fortunately more pieces of wood were lying around the scene, so all he really had to do was await his chance. It came just seconds later, and this time staking the bastard brought them back to the warehouse they had started at, or so they had thought at that moment anyway.

It shouldn’t have surprised them that they couldn’t kill the Trickster by staking him, but it somehow still did. Well, it wouldn’t have been that surprising to find out that he had survived at a later point in time, but it was surprising to find out that he hadn’t even released them from TV-land after being run through with a wooden stake.

Finding out about all that by realizing that Sam apparently had been turned into the Impala would have highly amused Dean if he hadn’t been at the very end of his patience by that point.

At least the Winchester brothers got the time to brainstorm and think things through, while they were being trapped in this scenario, though. Thank God for TV-shows which were mainly about a guy driving around in his talking car.

The way the Trickster had been talking to Castiel, the way he was so much more powerful, than he should have been, how he cared about angel-business and other little bits and pieces came together to form a clear and not too unlikely explanation. And the best about this was that it was giving them a real chance of getting back to the real world.

Also scratch the part about having to be on a procedural cop show being real embarrassing. You didn’t know what embarrassing meant until you had to dig around for holy oil in your brother’s trunk, or until your brother was searching for something in your trunk for that matter.

After Dean had set up the trap – Sam had a really good excuse for not helping with this one – it was nearly surprisingly easy to lure the Trickster into standing in the ring of holy oil, and once - the finally changed back - Sam had ignited it, holy fire.

“Maybe you’ve always been an angel,” Dean stated, repressing the thought that in an entirely different setting this might as well have been a pick-up line.

“I’ll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire, and we’ll call it our mistake,” the older Winchester finished emotionlessly and just like that they finally were back in the real world.


	10. Chapter 9

** 9 **

 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,“ Dean said just before he activated the fire alarm. He would have done so if his brother hadn’t grabbed his hand just a second before it hit its target anyway.

“I’ve got one more question for him, that’s all,” Sam explained.

“What was the lesson here?” he finally voiced his question after a few moments of tense silence.

“You two, accepting your destiny, playing your roles, getting it over with? Ring any bells?” Gabriel sing-songed in the sort of mocking tone he had brought to perfection over the centuries.

“Yeah, I got that the first time around. That’s the lesson you were trying to teach us”, Sam replied rolling his eyes, though he had to admit that he should have voiced his question differently from the start, “What’s the lesson you were trying to teach _me_?”

“And what makes you think you’re so special that you deserve another lesson just for yourself, especially after you completely ignored my last one?” Gabriel countered mockingly, mostly because he honestly didn’t know what Sam was talking about though. He really didn’t appreciate how in the course of an hour or less both Winchesters had made him feel like he wasn’t the nearly omniscient being that he very much liked to think he was.

Granted Dean’s little rant about him just being too afraid to stand up to his family – Michael and Lucifer specifically – was leaving the greater impression, but he was rather miffed about Sam thinking that he could read Gabriel well enough to figure out his motives as well.

“But you,” the younger Winchester started only to stop speaking, suddenly unsure if he wasn’t just imagining things. He cleared his throat and tried again though. “Look, you were trying to humiliate me a lot harder than you were trying with Dean. I mean I was the one to be hit in the balls on some Japanese Game Show…”

“You really took that one like a man. Credit where it’s due,” Gabriel interrupted “Also I let them shoot Dean on Dr. Sexy. That has to count for something!”

The older Winchester couldn’t help wincing slightly when that particular adventure was brought up again. He kept himself from throwing his two cents in, if only so Sam would get his point across faster and they could leave sooner though. Dean also shoved the unwanted thought that the Trickster might mess with Sam more, but sure as hell liked using lethal force on Dean better to the very back of his mind.

“I was the one you gave genital herpes,” Sam went on talking, as if there hadn’t been an interruption in the first place.

“Oh no, I didn’t give you anything, just made you say that you had it!” Gabriel insisted. There was an important difference there, after all. Alright, so if it had seemed funnier to him at the time he would have actually given Sam the disease as well, but it hadn’t and he hadn’t so again that had to count for something.

He was beginning to see that the other man might have a point, however. He made himself think some of the other scenarios he had put the brothers in through. Had he really made Sam the main victim of his pranks? If so, he hadn’t done it on purpose and that was worrying in itself.

“I was the one who had to be a contestant on ‘America’s Next Top Model’! Jason was going for me, when he could just as easily have gone for Dean! The Jerry Springer Show was all about how much of a fuck up I am! Freaking Martha Stewart was molesting me! It was my leg that had to be waxed! I ended up wearing that dress!” Sam went through the further points on his list, noticing that Gabriel had fallen silent, which had to mean something he was sure, so he ended with the last thing that had happened before they had unmasked the archangel “And I was the one you turned into the freaking Impala!”

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone waited for the answer the archangel was going to give. They were waiting in vain however.

Sam sighed and finally prompted, “Are you saying that I’m just imagining all this? ‘Cause the numbers are speaking against you! So what is it? Lucifer annoyed you when you were both baby-angels and you’re taking it out on me now?”

Really Sam wasn’t too keen on bringing the more logical explanation up by himself, but he was masochistic enough to want to hear the archangel say that the entire apocalypse was his fault and that he had been punished for that.

“Oh please,” Gabriel dismissed Sam’s explanation with a casual gesture of his hand. He couldn’t give the real explanation, even if he had wanted to however. There just wasn’t one as far as he could tell. Then again, he had obviously been drawn toward focusing on the younger Winchester more. There had to be some sort of explanation for that, he could admit that much to himself, even if he would never say any of that out loud.

“You’re sure it has nothing to do with me singlehandedly bringing the entire world to an end?” Sam finally just barked. So yeah, maybe his urge to take the sole responsibility for that was getting out of hand. Besides, the lesson he had expected was something along the lines of ‘If you break it, you have to pay for it’, or maybe, ‘if you fuck up as badly as you did, expect to be fucked up in return’. And yes, maybe Sam was just searching for a lesson where there was none, but he was not yet certain that there was nothing more to everything that had happened.

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” Gabriel replied nonchalantly, “Not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually. What’s a couple thousand years between friends?”

The angel began to understand that Sam wouldn’t let it go until he would give him some sort of answer to his question the human could believe, however. The problem was that he still had no truthful answer to give. So maybe he had bugged Sam more than his brother, but he had no idea what that meant, and even if he had had the inkling of one, he wouldn’t have wanted to share his reasoning for sure.

“There has to be something!” Sam insisted, though at this point he wasn’t quite sure, why he was even still trying, “Was all that just your way to tell me that I suck?”

Damn if that figure of speech didn’t bring unwanted and completely uncalled for pictures to Gabriel’s mind. But surely that meant nothing other than him clearly being a pervert, which he’d willingly admit to at any time. If the shoe fit…

“You are way more fun to torment,” he offered in the way of explanation with a casual shrug finally, “Have you ever seen your own bitch-faces? They’re just great, I’m telling you.”

“That’s it?” Sam asked incredulous. A part of him desperately wanted to believe in what the archangel had just said, after all that would be some kind of answer, and moreover, one after which Sam had been the more or less incidental target. Nothing to do with Lilith, Lucifer, or the Apocalypse and that really was a rare occurrence these days.

“Afraid so, kiddo,” Gabriel replied easily offering a smirk, “Look, if you don’t mind, I have things to see, people to do, you know the drill.”

“Okay then,” Sam stated rather emotionless, after staring at the other man trying to find any sign that he had lied, for another few moments. He understood that he had to let the question go at that moment, though. He wasn’t going to get any other answers and maybe it was better that way.

Sam turned around quickly and went towards the exit to the warehouse where Dean was still standing. “I’m done. Do your thing.”

The older Winchester frowned slightly, looking after his brother, before he pulled the fire-alarm that would eventually free Gabriel from the ring of holy fire.

“You’re a massive dick,” he told the archangel, shaking his head slightly and leaving right behind Sam. That at least was a universal truth that applied no matter if Sam had been right or wrong, or if the Trickster had lied or not.

Castiel stayed for another moment to give his brother a searching and questioning look. What was it with every idiot thinking that they could judge Gabriel’s motives that day? Maybe he was just reading something into Castiel’s stare that wasn’t actually there, but he felt like the littlest angel was doing his very best to look straight through him and that was something Gabriel couldn’t stand.

“Hurry, Lassie, your owners will leave you behind!” he stated in a fake urgent tone, making shooing motions with his hands. There really was enough on his plate without adding his brother’s judgmental stares. After all, he still had Dean’s little speech about being a coward ringing in his ears. He’d have to lie if he said that the entire Sam-business was gone from his mind already. Stupid humans and their stupid pseudo-psychological ways!

Castiel looked a little confused, which seemed to be par for the course for him anyway, but got the message and left his brother alone, like the good little pet-angel he was.

Thus Gabriel was left in the very slowly dying out ring of holy fire, wet and with far too much going on in his mind.


End file.
